What Happens On The Ship Stays On The Ship
by Don'tEvenHaveAGun
Summary: She'll hum her own little funeral tune and stand on top of unmarked graves. She'll unravel happy memories while singing the same little tune. (Dabbles from ME - Post-Destroy)
1. Stories

**What Happens on the Ship Stays On The Ship**

**Chapter:** Stories

**Time Period:** ME2 – Year: 2185

**Word Count: 1,410**

**A/N: A whole bunch of dabbles that happened on the Ship and after Post-Destroy. **

It started with one bottle. That bottle multiplied by two and then by ten. Empty bottles littered the mess table and a rabble of gunfire bets were being made and cards thrown down against solid surface. "To hell with this! Beat me at my own game, Shepard?" The scot ruffled up while pushing across his creds to Shepard's side. This action resorted a laugh from Gabby who sat on the adjacent side from Shepard; next to Kenneth.

"And here I thought humans were good at lying." Garrus drawls in, taking a few glance overs at Shepard's full hand. Bewilderment smothered, pride arose. She moved her hand away from his visual sight.

"Alright, alright. You're alright, Shepard." The sexist went for a full grin and the C.O. could compline with her own, but her smile showed all teeth, her face sinking behind her cards.

"Lying? No. Garrus, your kind can't even fathom the idea of lying." Shepard placed down two cards face down in the pile, muttering, _"Two queens."_

"That stick in his ass moves with every shuttering lie he makes, boss. Must be a genetic thing with Turians, no doubt. Shh. Shh. Can you hear it? _Tweeeek." _Joker crossed his arms over each other – not really a part of the game, he just watched from the head of the table, glancing over everyone else's cards, throwing Shepard sideways smiles. Then Joker resorted to mockery, gesturing on how Garrus uses his voice, "No – no, Shepard of course I wasn't looking at your ass through the scope. _Tweeek_. These aren't porn vids, these are research – you know, gotta know your enemy on a biologic scale. _Tweeeek._"

Shepard stares up from her hand, eyes averting, lingering to one side of the table and then the next. Garrus fell flat for a moment and Joker's smile could be heard from a mile, silently gloating. It took a moment, then she let it sink in, "You look at my ass through a scope?"

"Porn vids, eh? Which ones?" Kenneth also joins in, adding his two-creds worth on the situation. "I've always been a role-playin' sort of guy. As a critic – I'd say _Pirates_ and _Cocked n' Loaded _were true masterpieces_. _Classics." A suppressed groan comes from Gabby's end, her palm finding contact to her forehead and she rocks back in her chair.

"Donnelly? What the fuck?" Joker reels in and purposely ignores the glare that's exchanged between the Gunnery Chief and the C.O. One is colored in a certain embarrassment – the other taunts.

"Eh, eh, Creaky. Don't give me that look. We all know there's a bottle of hand lotion near on deck and the subscription of _Ships n' Hoes _is not all secret around the crew about you. Fine choice I might add." Kenneth is pushing his boundary now; and the way the Commander snaps her vex to Joker run's the pilot on end.

Both, Shepard and Gabby sit there for a moment. Their eyes finally meeting each other. One holds a solemn complexion, while the other is on the verge of tears. "Is this…normal?" Shepard finally speaks and all three men at the table straighten up, with the movement Gabby finally let's go of her built up laugh, and then rolls her eyes. "You know – to share porn tips? Why in the hell…why? How did we get trapped in this conversation?"

"We can talk about our sex life, Commander. We're all friends." Donnelly raises his brow to her, letting Shepard's lips drawl north. "Also we're a little sauced and I'm pretty sure we all have skeletons in our closet."

"Human's second language, the dreaded analogy affair. I'll bite, where are you getting at Donnelly?" Garrus finally breaths while the topic of choice is not him anymore and the two human men share the intention span as a drunken Grunt; they were talking about the female physiology – the science behind their awkward mating rituals. He was a more, bang and go sort of man himself, but that was just a Turian's way and they didn't pride themselves on the romantics of it.

Apparently, humans didn't either.

"And…" Shepard trails off, her words slurred a moment but held her commanding composer and dropped to her monotone tone and graceful ways, "so the night begins. Get ready for the sex toy jokes, Gabby."

"Oh, I so knew it." Joker rags in, his elbow brushing pass the scot and they both chuckle like schoolboys. "Those lonely space nights, right Boss? Feeling a little comfy, the blankets rise, just got out of a shower…"

"Chill it. Or I'll break your _only _working bone." Her blue-mist eyes study the pilot's grin, dawning on Joker's little gruff and she knew she couldn't hold her _half serious half drunk-off-her-ass look. _She was considered a grumpy drunk, loving considered sober; so she's been told.

The Commander was cut off either way when both men banged on the table, clambering, "STORIES!"

Assuming so, Kenneth was the one to jump on his story first. "It was back in me and Gabby's SSV Perugia days." Gabby was quick to jump, her hand slapping against her forehead again, begging, "Please don't talk about _that _story.

Kenneth ignored her and everyone settled for listening to the long-tale, "Met this lass with the finest ass on the ship. Her waist ran small, but her hips spoke all the volumes of my homelands. She had blonde hair, gold as the damn sun. But – let me talk about that ass. I could bite into it – like a fresh apple –"

Gabby intruded again, "KENNETH!"

"Calm down, girl. I'm telling my story. Her ass," Donnelly begins again, and the sentence alone left Joker, Shepard, and Garrus all looking at each other. "It was the ripest thing. Dip in the curve, subtle farcical features, her lips dainty – She caught me off in the mess hall one day, bickering about some idiot ex-boyfriend -"

"And for that little comfort she went for the Scottish guy." Shepard was getting the picture and it left Donnelly wiggling his brows at her, his drunken haze smitten by his own thoughts.

"Exactly. I took that ass right on my council. Didn't even care if it overridden a few systems. But, damn. She certainly _over-ridden_ me."

"And he came to me a week later about some itch." Gabby chided and Donnelly quickly straightened his posture. "Damn it, girl!" The Scott, huffed.

"All happy endings seem to have a catch. Real tragic Romeo, now don't touch the tables." Joker swatted.

"Alright, what about you, Creaky? Got any riveting tales about your bone." Donnelly had to tease, had to push everyone on edge. Shepard sort of ignored it and retreated to the fridge to pull out another beer, Garrus flanked her down for one as well, returning to sit next to him. Muttering, "This should be good."

"Oh, you know. Nothing better than not being able to strain your body during sex. Let's just say my sexual encounters were not the best – the idea of shattered pelvis doesn't appease to certain women. Sure, I had my run-ins, but that's how far it goes." Joker implied, watching the way Shepard eyed him from the corner, her mouth brushing passed the rim of the bottle; her fixation ran hazy. "Honestly, I'm more curious about Shepard."

And the entire table perked up at the redheaded woman. She was averting her gaze in different angles, her lips fell thin then hoisted into a desperate smirk, "Alright, Alright, you caught me, Joker. I had sex with Wrex. The idea of Krogan anatomy ramming me seemed appropriate at the time." She could hear Garrus chocking on the alcohol next to her. Sarcasm seemed to be draping from her lips and the two Cerberus engineers were the first to catch her joke, laughing inwardly. The thought of Wrex – that giant turtle, made Joker cringe on sight.

"Which explains Kaiden's chances…the fact that there was none." Joker grinned and the entire table fell silent.

**Next:** Ashely Williams


	2. Ashley Williams

**What Happens On The Ship Stays On The Ship**

**Title: **_Ashely Williams_

**Time Period: **_Mass Effect One_** Year: **_2183_

**Word Count: **_1,084_

The emotions of humans seemed so abstract, a total enigma. Though, then you twisted that emotion they seemed just like everyone else. Across the cosmos, smothered in galaxy; the human culture seemed to be romanticized; take for instance their homeworld: Earth. A large mass with seventy percent of it covered in water – twenty percent considered drinkable. Hell, even their body – their genetic makeup is sixty percent made of water. Among the regions of lands and core their climates differ on which way the sun sets. One half could be completely cold, while the other smack-dab in a desert or a tropical forest.

Humans are stained in diversities – so different from one another, their ideas split into different branches. Their government prided upon democratic assumptions, but the politics of government involving humans seemed so frustrating. Their religious sense also applies to their cultural/political prowess. Two humans could enter a room and if given a topic, they'd come up with one-hundred different outcomes along with a brutal debate.

Their looks of subtle flesh, and skulls easy to crack pegged them weak. And many species pondered on the reasons that they survived so long. Coming to the conclusion that these _creatures _were incredibly cunning, silver-tongued, and dominating.

C-Sec wasn't so long behind Garrus and the idea of serving on an Alliance _human _ship seemed almost taunting, bewildering on the same ideal set to bring down Seren. He's heard of the Commander, and how she held her ground during the Blitz and resulted rather respected in her kind. Emotions never really checked out in the lines of her lips, the way her eyes study a person before she speaks, her dawning compassion to anything that held a holding breath; she was truly something. It really had to be a catastrophe problem to make her flinch on the spot; sever anarchy.

Their second run in didn't promise anything, the way that she jerked him by his armor, and the hues in her irises triggered. _You never put a citizen's life in danger! Never half-ass a job! Got it?_ And she was extremely stern in those beliefs. Under Turian standards, however, her attitude would peek any Turian's interest not to mess with her. She was compassionate, yes, but incredibly dedicated to all forms of life that seemed to crawl out of the sea.

Garrus truly admired her approach, and in the long-run of all these missions she's taught him the fundamentals to take things slow, and set them right the first time around. She was an incredible teacher, and if you caught her off-guard she'd strike up conversation fast. Her emotions checking in monotone, hinted in a cheerful nature, devoured comical. If anything went wrong – she'd never let her emotions cloud that aspect. _Her. Team. Came. First._

Today, however, proved something different.

Virmire didn't promise what she desired; they were huddling in the Milky Way, waiting for some sort of response on what happened on a tragic sacrifice.

Garrus was the first to actually find her, holed away into hiding in the Mako, her forehead pressed against the steering-wheel, fingers dangling off the sides of it, a loose bottle twiddled in her fingers. She was mourning, the idea of it pulled tragic. She wasn't the commander for this moment, she was just a human woman that pleaded rest.

"I got too cocky, a mixture of confidence in hoping that Ashely wouldn't die in vain." She slung her head up, muttering over the open hatch, prying for conversation on whoever was the first to find her. Lucky for Garrus, fate chose him. "Saren was right there. Right…there." Her voice rolled in hush, the rim of the bottle touching her upper lip, then dragging in lower to swallow the liquid.

"There was nothing you could do, Commander." It seemed odd to Garrus, being the one to switch roles with Shepard for the moment – being that boost of moral support. It shifted him uncomfortable seeing her in this state to begin with. "Why don't you step out of the Mako? Go get some rest. Hand me the bottle."

Her eyes rolled over his frame and for a moment. Her laugh chopped in her throat, "Rest, yes, rest. I'm sure Ashely is catching up on all that rest now. Hell, I was the reason for that. If – only…" Her eyes began trailing away, and she was down for the count on another swig of her drink. "Who sent you?" Her tone changed in tempo, her voice rasped in her commanding form.

"Well – Kadien was looking for you. He said if I saw you that I should report to him."

"The only reason I'm in here is that I could drink in peace. I'm not up for moral support from him, nor someone barking in my ear about '_everything will be ok.' _I'm not that weak-willed. I just want to drink, I just want to remember a friend, and forget who I am." She lifted up her arm, presenting the half-empty bottle to the galaxies, "so, here's to you, Ashely. You're with God now, or whatever you said before." Her eyes fluttered shut and she resulted into coaxing her head against the steering-wheel again.

The bottle from her hand fumbled, then dropped, rolling under the pedal where her boot was propped up on, the alcohol spilling its content on her other boot.

Silence loomed, and The Commander that he respected laid in a pitiful display of drunken intentions and ghosting sleep. She'd have enough time to sleep off the poison, breaching Citadel in ETA two hours.

Even if Shepard said she was fine, even if she said she could take on the world. She still needed to be reminded by life that she was still human. That she still mourned, that she needed to let the pressure out at one point; touching the bases of insanity didn't appease to her professional standards.

Even if she never wanted to admit it – she was still human. A speck in the galaxy that held the entire plot of the future on her shoulders.

So what did Garrus do for his Commanding Officer? He respected her wishes of not being questioned and if she pulled the strings to seek comfort in words; she'd find him.

He closed the door to the Mako before Kaiden had the opportunity to find her.

**Next: **One Day I'll Lose This Fight


	3. One Day I'll Lose This Fight

**What Happens on the Ship Stays On The Ship**

**Chapter:** One Day I'll lose this Fight

**Time Period**: ME2 – Year: 2185 (Sorta ME3)

**Word Count**: 2,039

She's crawling through the shadows of doubt. Numbly smiling when her fingers grace down his slender arm, but she's still smiling and he still studies her alien fixtures; letting his fingers touch the sides of bone-pale skin. While one hand latches to her right hip, his other monitors the side of her cheek – slowly comforting the woman in front of him, his thumb idly strokes her cheek. In a moment of weakness in the way her lips curved north, the way that she leans into his hand in a trusting fashion; he nuzzles his forehead against hers to inherit her scent that lingered.

Honestly, their little fiasco of _blowing off steam _wasn't meant to hold any meaning besides two friends participating in a desperate act of sex. And the more that he thought about it, the more that he watched her commanding figure parade through the bullets, even down to the way her body filled her armor. He became intrigued and obsessed over her notion, nervous whenever she flashed her hallow-point smile in his direction. Desperately, he reeled and strived to earn her favor.

His figure looms over her figure, priding himself on feeling like the predator over her sweet vulnerability of shifting to his touch. She still held her bittersweet smile, lulling his heartbeat to a shutter, but he held his best subtle expression while he examined her. _She was scared too._

"You know, were going to have to move at some point." She mutters through a glint and the hand that was latched to his arm revolved higher up his stature, tugging at the fabrics of his civvies. He waited patiently, awe struck over the grace and elegance of her hips when she compresses herself to his. His mandibles flutter, deadpanning his expression from collective to complete bewilderment. Both her hands are moving now to the sides of his face, leaving the delicate movement of lips upon his; yet hers are fuller. She's showing him her human culture and he's internally grateful.

Her lips are trailing a map now that began from his lips, connecting to his unscarred cheek, then pleading south when her lips brush by the soft skin of his neck. He inclined his head so she could perform well and the fashion that her hips pressed harder against his left him breathless and stunned. He was now coaxing himself to show her something in return, but the only thing he could fathom was by moving his hand that was connected to her hip and shifting it to the small of her back, guiding her hips to roll against his. This strategy was extremely intimate to his people and he praised the Spirits that she too, considered his nature.

Grimly, she's now moving away from his touch and he can't help the way he frowns when he watches her inquisitive, teasing smile. She leads him down the descending stairs, then gestures him to sit upon her couch.

She begins her playful ways by slowly unlatching her pants, letting the fabric drag slowly down her longlegs, hips caving when she begins her journey to lift her shirt up. He holds his breath watching her, her features tugging the bases of _very human. _Though, the way her waist is formed, her hips swooping out, and the way her black undergarments clash against pale skin – it seemed exotic and downright erotic.

She began to let her underclothes fall, first unhooking the clasp of her bra that held her chest, then her panties that also slid to the pool of clothing.

She waited, dimly smiling against blue lights that radiated from the fish tanks. Her knee's brushed against his sitting form. She was waiting for some trace of feedback. But he could only trail his talons nervously down the leather material of the couch, beckoning her to come closer.

Her dimmed smile proclaimed bold, her actions relied on nervous tensions and the way her bare thighs parted when she slid over his lap caused the same reaction from him – slow, steady, and on course. She grounded her knees against the couch and he was stuck between her legs, then by taking hold of his hands she guided them them to her hips. She was leaning in, teasing in the way her forehead pressed against his now, her ember-smitten hair fluttering against the sides of her face, her crescent lips touching bases with his harder lips.

It all seemed so natural.

"Hey, are you ok?" She ghosted her whisper into his ear and all he could proclaim was a hummed yes. So, she went along with her mistreatments, her devious, cunning nature into breaking him. She grounded herself into his lap, rocking slowly against his hip over his clothing. "Mm." And her hands slid to his shoulders, her wrists crossing behind his neck.

"The idea of your foreplay is, uh, different in Turian standards." He could not help to hear his own voice; he assumed it was like checking if he was still breathing over the fact that the most compassionate, most insatiable leader to cross the Milky Way was straddling him and submitting herself to him alone.

Her laugh trickled low and draped over her lips, "Is that so?" Her thighs squeezed against his, causing him to lean back into the leather couch. "Assuming you want me to change? Enlighten me, Garrus. Teach me something new. Let me be the student." She's still holding out for her confidence, she's still sliding her form against his lap and he shutters under the pressure of her weight against his clothes alone. He could feel in all his judgment that his plates are shifting to her actions.

"I'm sure I can elucidate your understanding, Shepard. Assuming if you're up to the task that is?" His mandibles clenched tight when she pushes up off her knees to run the flat of her tongue against the soft skin of his neck; starting from the lower level of his neck then treading trails up. "_Spirits," _He stammers, feeling her smile pressed against his neck. They've come to an agreement that her actions alone spoke volumes than the gift of speech. "let me – just remove my, ah."

Her fingers were moving, treading down his carapace, over his clothing. She was unlatching and she was unzipping. She seemed more content, needier when his hard layer of chest was bare and the way that she had to press her bare figure against his also resulted in his needy, desired felt needs.

She stopped momentarily when they finally lowered his trousers, and he was incredibly open to her. His insecurities ran high and he was ready to explain himself to her till he felt her fingers loop around the shaft of his cock. And the things that she said to him under a smothered voice sent waves of pride, "God, Garrus. I can barely wrap my fingers around you." He hummed lowly into her ear, feeling her shiver over the gaze-over and she began her stroking motion across the shaft, the side of her index finger just stopping to where the tip began, thumbing over the tip.

His sub-harmonics ruled impatience. And he was incredibly ready for her to take it in any form – or whatever those _educational videos _recommended about female anatomy and pleasure rousers. He just needed a place that ran slick and warm and tight. He was contemplating, not truly understanding his surroundings when he watched her fingers repeat its rhythm. She was sliding to the floor, her knees making contact with solid ground and he quickly erected his posture – he knew exactly what was going on. It all was based on position.

"Shepard, I – don't know..." He quickly closed his trap when he felt himself go down into her mouth. First it was her tongue to slither its way up, then she took him down in one sweep. Head bobbing, a low mutter of gasps when she couldn't take him all the way down. "Fuck." Her wrist twisted to corkscrew the motion and his tip barely brushed passed her soft lips – her mouth warmed him. He had to reel her back, and it was painful enough when she stopped and the only thing connecting them from each other was her saliva to his tip and she rubbed it in slowly with her fingers.

"What's wrong?"

"Yeah, uh. I'm not too use to that sensation – perhaps another time when were both not tied up on a suicide run." A poor choice in a joke, and he regretted it dearly. But her face drew up and she began her trek back up on his lap, letting him lean back into the leather seating.

"Must be the teeth." She pipes in, a curl in her humorous expression.

"Perhaps – perhaps I could show you teeth." It's his turn to ruin her. His hands find her hips though rolls up till he finds her shoulder blades and dragging her forward into his chest. He's dragging his teeth dangerously against the elegant curve of her neck. She reacts to the contact and reveals to have her hands finding his chest, leaning her entire being into him.

His hands parade back down to her hips and he purposely crushes her hips into his arousal. Dragging her entrance across his shaft and she wiggles against it. Gasping, pawing, and silently begging him to take her already. He refuses. And he bathes in that certain power of a dominating approach.

He's nipping at her throat and with every tease of passing long teeth he bites down just a little harder till he really sets his teeth against her. Marking her as if to prove that this is not some illusion or some huge anatomy his brain is playing on his before he dies. It was too much bliss. She jerks against his bite and he holds her still.

The next scene finally plays out and she's holding herself above his lap. He's gentle to this point where his hand touches her hip and his other positions his erection under her. Then he lowers her onto him. Her first reaction was to hold in her breath and as she slid down the entire length she lets out the bent out stress.

Once he's all the way in he retreats his free hand to her adjacent hip and gives her the moment to adjust – letting her stretch out over his girth. Her fingers are bent over his shoulders and she's waiting for his thick movements.

She pushes off her knees, but he's doing most of the work by guiding her up and down. The more her voice rises and the more she becomes vocal and the way that she grabs for his fringe on several occasions coaxes him enough to shove her down harder and pull her up faster.

He's sliding back into the couch and he's desperately trying to hook underneath her thighs to lift her and drag her down. Her hips rolling against him, her walls are clenching with ever fluid movement and he's on the verge to end it all.

He finally finishes and she winds down against him. Arms looped lovingly around his neck and his hand roaming down her bare back. His chest rumbles, and she's brought to a sea of calm against his heat.

And for the moment – they truly believed there was no war. That no one had to die.

After their first sexual encounter, after the collector base. He was haunted on those three words he wanted to tell her before he departed for his homeworld and after he heard she was placed under house arrest on Earth.

He saw her after those six months. Smelling of blood, smothered in ash and embers that darkened the skies and all she could do was smile at him.

And in response he smiled at her.

He'll tell her at some point, but for right now. He wanted to savor the look in her war-stricken eyes and the way her full lips curved mischievous as she ran across the battle fields.

**Next: Under the helmet **


	4. Under The Helmet

**What Happens On the Ship Stays On The Ship**

**Title: **_Under The Helmet_

**Word Count: 794**

**Time: ME-ME3**

She died grasping from behind her helmet. Trying to close up the point of entry to where her oxygen ran thin through pipes. At first, when she was swimming through a sea of void, fingers tangling between wires, she fought to stay alive. Her body bent back, straining to catch some sort of visual on her surroundings – and then she accepted the brain's natural senses: shutting down nerves–systems, slowing of her heart rate, a flashing light of a chemical reaction that the brain sends off before critical death.

She found peace.

She's alive again. Threatening the masses that plague her dismay. And the first thing she grabs before she assaults her mission is a freshly painted helmet; but instead of flying her own colors she's gifted with a Cerberus logo stretched out over the glossy paint. The feeling is bittersweet and the comfort of armor dims her insecurities like her cloak.

She twiddles with her helmet, slacked over and thumbing the work. Her gloved finger trailing over the dints of bullet-ridden holes, a few stray of crimson splattered across the finish – and she figured it belonged to some poor sap who fired the first bullet at her.

She feels panic rise in her lung and she remembers all those memories that flooded in. The only thing that catches her life is the hard pressure of her helmet; blocking her view, hiding her eyes of any expression of fear that could of warned her squad.

Though, today, her helmet held more meaning than anything.

"Mordin, you don't have to do this." She's striding behind him and he's talking a hundred miles a minute. He ponders her tone, the way that her body slumps over on solid ground. Then he surveys himself in her helmet, watching his old self in her reflection that runs over the glass.

"Someone else would have gotten it wrong." His strides are long and before she had the time to reach out and put her hand on his shoulder he has already overridden the controls and the glass to the elevator is sealed shut.

She's never been so emotional, as helpless as she runs up to the glass and slams her fist once against the green. With her helmet bent down, she whispers, "I'll miss you." And the ol' doctor would retort with a bitter smile, compassion lacing his vocals, "It has been an honor, Commander." He shoots up the towers.

The Genophage halted its plague and the Krogan could be heard in a hollow victory. Chanting and singing songs of old.

The Commander now watches from afar, she twiddles for a moment, but she knew she had to watch the end drawl near to take another friend from her grasp. And she feels deep in her gut the proudest to have known Mordin.

Garrus pat's her shoulder and Liara watches her motion when she leans into the Commander. Both unaware by the emotion racked underneath the helmet. And it was underneath this helmet, this security blanket that Shepard shown her colors. She was silently crying, desperately mourning; though her voice stayed the same. It was war after all and it was coming after them all.

There'd be other times of course. Always other times. It wasn't like the fall of Thessia didn't tear anything at her insides, or the way Liara screamed out as her homeworld crumped from the ground up. Leaving Shepard to hold her, comforting a dear friend.

Shepard would sometimes linger in her armor and it left for a better excuse to cry without prying eyes of a weak Commander. A crew that's never seen her cry before even back with Ashely's death. Garrus was beginning to even catch on, holding her steady to help remove that helmet and in retort she fought back, fist slamming against his chest plating.

She's spent her entire life in a helmet, cradling it everywhere she went.

Though, when the end came and she was staring down her demise. She removed her helmet and that is when the Reapers finally left her kind alone. Upon rubble she lays, dying and watching the beautiful hue of fog-smitten skies, her fingers desperately touching her helmet that laid at her side.

She watched the Normandy fly overhead and she knew with a smile plastered on her face – that it was all over now.

Then she stands before the memorial wall, fingers trembling when she removes her own name and her fingertips trail over the engraved names of her fallen comrades. She has no helmet on this time and it is the first time in her entire career that her crewmates see her cry.

**Next: **_Sleep_


	5. Sleep

**What Happens On The Ship Stays On The Ship**

**Time: ME3**

**Title: Sleep**

**Word Count: 847 **

_Awkward? _Would there be any way to splice the subject of attention? But, here lies Commander Shepard sprawled out over her bed, datapad tucked under her chest and a human red fruit held loosely in her grasp. Scenario starter: EDI was bent over the side of the bed, thumbing her robotic fingers through the tangles of red hair. Motherly in any approach and it seemed almost daunting to intrude.

"Garrus." EDI simply stated, her fixation that was first drawled to Jane quickly evaporated into his direction. "Do you wish to acquire The Commander's attention?" Her voice bordered normal, though, hinted something humorous in the way Garrus stopped just above Shepard's stairs that descended into living arrangements.

"Nothing urgent, EDI. No – just assumed I'd visit her after the fiasco with Thane." Garrus stared at the unchanged expression that loomed on her face, his eyes drifting to the female human that still held onto her half-eaten fruit. EDI's movement slowed when she came across a few strands on Shepard's head, "Though, I'm more curious on why you're up here also. And don't tell me _'Just happened to be in the neighborhood.'_" He wanted to groan at that – he always said something stupid when he uttered into nervous intentions. The phrase quickly made him think of Joker – or perhaps it was because EDI was in the room. Hypothetically, she's in the entire ship, you know, if you wanted to get technical.

"I came to ask Shepard more questions about the development of organics. The Commander, however, had other things in mind; she did ask me to stay. I told her I could be accessed via terminal. She demanded that this _body _stands close. Her heart pattern has slowed since I agreed to be in here with her." Garrus could only simply nod at the details that EDI seemed to mutter, _something about 140 dropping to 120 a minute_.

"She asked you to comfort her – just answering your own question." And he'd gesture the pattern of strokes that EDI ran through Shepard's hair. "She'll sometimes ask me to do the same for her. Though, I'm not as aware on the protocol of human comfort. I'm learning just as much as you, EDI." That earned him a certain hum that came off his chest and EDI's hands hesitated on the sea of red hair before her.

"She wasn't always like this? Correct?"

"Elaborate, EDI."

She mulled over her own question, "I've ran over several logs. Many of the old crewmen has believed that Shepard's personality spirals on different aspects. Before her death, before her recreation _per say, _that her attitude was modest. Some would mention cold upon approach. Now, they speak that she has already accepted death. I've taken the liberty of running my own diagnostics on The Commander. _Also, asking Jeff for his opinion on the topic of our commander. _"

"And what have you concluded?" He could hear the settled breaths of Shepard's tired form, watching the way that EDI dragged her fingers through her hair. There was a low pang on how much Jane has aged over the course of history; her skin still as vibrant as ever, it was just the mental side of the problem – that she was slowly losing her mind like the rest. He was thinking of foolish days again, where they were just a rag-tag team on the verge of cracking Seren. She was so young, so very human, and she held her ground over slander and the art of politics.

"Perhaps a change in diet. Longer resting hours." EDI nodded to herself and her own eyes went back to lingering on Jane. She was silent, analyzing her own pause. "Shepard has shown me a lot. If I was honest _with myself – _I'm worried about her." Garrus moved down the stairs, taking a better look at the woman who had her face pressed against her own pillow.

"You must be learning a lot, EDI. Concern touches the bases of organic life."

"So I've been told." Her tone came across drolly, metallic, and absolutely curious. It's like she, too, mourned for The Commander's sanity.

Garrus was now joining EDI who was bent at the waist over Shepard's body. She halted her fingers and moved over to give the larger turian room. He picked up EDI's job by running his gloved talons against her sensitive scallop, which eased her frame even more against the bed.

She'd stir and EDI watched on with blunted wonderment over the curious encounter of two organics – it made her think of Jeff and she questioned herself if Jeff would enjoy the same gesture. Then she watched the way Shepard's hues fluttered open, and the way her grin grew rapid when she leaned into Officer Vakarian's touch.

EDI stored away that emotion.

"Fall asleep eating again?" Garrus' voice rolled comfort and in retort Shepard grinned, her eyes dawning back to close. She gripped onto the apple that she still held onto.

"Perhaps."

**Next: Letters**


	6. Letters

**What Happens On The Ship Stays On The Ship**

**Title: **Letters

**Word Count: 2,053**

**Time: ME-ME3**

**Jane Shepard **

**January 25, 2183 **

Dearest Jane,

It's been quite some time since I've been actually able to contact you. (Or when this does reach you it probably won't be even Christmas, but hell, here's hoping.) You know, with regulations – they still blot out your location which makes it harder to reach you, oddly they also cover up the date; must be some weird way of covering Alliance tracks, classification shit. It's damn near impossible to reach you.

If you must ask, and I know you're dying to know all about my personal life – yes I'm still in college and no, I have not had the opportunity in getting a girl pregnant. _I know you were just dying when you sent me off, with your whole spiel about, "Now John, no glove. No love." And, "keep your willy covered." _Though, if I had to unfold my affairs to my sister – I did in fact meet a nice girl, and no, she is not imaginary. (I'm always two steps ahead of you Jane. You should know that.) Her name is Julia Tisdel, you know, if you're curious. She's majoring in register nursing, and damn Jane, I have to say she's like a girl I've never met before – beautiful, smart, and overall confident and she can kill me by pressure points. I can't wait for you to meet her. I know you'll simply adore her.

Anyways, I saw you on the externet the other day during my Survey History class. While I was supposed to be researching the Colonial Exchange – something about syphilis and Indians – blah, blah – your news article popped up and I happened to click it. Jane, you've changed so much. The way that you handled yourself, the way that you held yourself; I'm so proud to be called your brother. Remember when we were just a couple of hood-rats with barely a cred to our name – and what you had to do to provide for me, to send me to college…Jane, you are my sister. The main woman in my life. And I honestly can't wait till you have leave.

Hell, I'm running up your time! I love you and you better hurry up with whatever investigation that the Alliance stacked you with! I have a hankering for a game of pool!

Your dashing brother,

John.

**July 14, 2183 **

**(Placed in Jane Ann Shepard's empty coffin.) **

My dearest sister,

The thought of your departure from your body, from this galaxy has never reached my mind, nor do I think I'll ever come to grips that the person that practically raised me has finally drawled her last breath. You, my dearest sister. My beautiful attachment. The one that burned brightest in a world of dark – you were never meant to die, not now, not ever.

The meaning of your life was the definition of poetic justice, and it burns to the bone.

The very fibers of your life was made of stardust. Fragile but brilliantly vibrant to the core – overzealous at its best. You basically brimmed beauty and sent shivers down the souls that will never have the privilege, like I did, to know you first hand. My quote for you sweet sister, something that spoke volumes to me. It was something that you would utter about everyday life, about work, about what you had to do with that broken smile.

I love you. I'll always love you.

"_Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with scars." –Khalil Gibran _

Truly dedicated,

John

**June 22, 2185**

Jane,

No, no, no. You can't be real. The real you died long ago! You can't fucking be real! You are nothing but a ghost, a false ghost that was plastered across propaganda for Alliance benefit! You are not parading In Omega! That is an imposter, a liar! The idea of a false idol is written in blasphemy!

I still can't believe I send mail out to your old address – I sometimes forget that you ever breeched death – which you walk across the land of the godless. You are dead, and my wishes for you to be alive…simply came true.

Oh, God. Jane, my dearest sister please come back to me. I'm certainly not the man you left two years ago; I'm simply lost.

-John

**March 12, 2186 **

I sit here with Julia and all we can do now is pray. We pray for better beginnings and we pray for you. Whenever we can reach any sort of news – it's something but a miracle, and the supplies to sustain Julia's pregnancy is dwindling along with our other supplies of clean clothes and bottled waters. She's stressed and so is our unborn child in that matter. This existence seems bleak.

Look, Jane, I try not to feed my family with false hope, nor sugarcoat that we'll all live through this. That the delicate matter of living is slim at this point. And if we fade – let it well known sister – that humanity was the last to take the shot. Make them pay for wiping out our homeworld, make those fuckers pay for taking out Julia's family, and make them pay for placing my unborn daughter, your niece, in any amount of stress.

This is the last time I'll be able to use a terminal to contact you and well, hell Jane, I love you. And if you make it out of this – if we all make it out of this – we are all retiring to a far off place with miles of beach and not a human soul in sight. Just the family.

Us street-rats have to stick together, eh?

Your brother,

John Shepard

**Omni-tool pings: **

_18:25_** G. Vakarian: **Ran my calculations twice, Shepard. I'm starting to believe that Tali is toying with me. I suspect the bad influence roots from three years prior – yeah, and I'm talking about you. She used to be so innocent and now she's dabbling in Admiral Politics. I should applaud you. Anyways, I'm running my numbers again. Just wanted to check in on you.

_21:30 __**G.**_**Vakarian**: So – I've finished my work. How about you join me in the mess in twenty minutes? Perhaps later you can show me some new vid moves…or target practice. Whichever you prefer. Hope you're still flexible. Oh, also, can we send photos over the Omni-tool? I'm not going to go into any detail with you on here – but I'm sure that the idea is hot enough.

_03:17 __**G.**_**Vakarian: **It's late. Work is keeping me up. Just wanted to remind you how beautiful you are. I'm going to try to get some sleep.

_23:57 _**L.****T'soni : **Shepard. I'm becoming highly concerned on the stresses you are going through. I ran through my contacts six times and I haven't been able to trace your brother John Shepard, nor his wife Julia. The exact condition of Julia's pregnancy is unknown and I've found no trace of hospital record to support a pinpoint location. As a friend I worry for you Shepard and your mental wellbeing.

_17:27 __**J.**_**Vega: **Hey, Lola! Poker night tonight. I suggested strip poker with Scars. He didn't protest if I'd invite you. I hope Scars knows how to deal his cards – the idea of seeing him naked is not as appealing than seeing you. You do know how to fill out your armor though.

_17:39 _**Javik: **Commander. I'm in direr need to figure out the banning systems in this primitive device. This James human keeps sending me messages describing the natures of this strip poker. Make him stop or I shall ask the ship's doctor the exact pressure points to stun or kill a human.

**Search History: {**_Beaches of Mexico.} {German Chocolates.} {Old Folk Lore from Russia.} _

**Jeff "Joker" Moreau**

**April 5, 2183**

Dear Jeff,

I should be mad at you! But I'm much too proud to call you out on it. You finally made it, like you always told me when I was younger. And if mother was alive long enough to witness this, she, too, would have been just as proud as father is.

Thank you for sending me a basket of candy fruits and assorted flowers for my birthday. Dad was the one to tell me that I should write you to thank you, so, thank you! I placed your flowers on my shelf – the one closes to my window in my room and I've already ripped through the candy oranges that was in the package - down right devoured them without sharing with dad.

Nothing new is going for me besides – middle school. I really hate it. Did you hate it when you started? There's this one boy that keeps picking on me…you remember Levi? Well its Levi's little brother that keeps pestering me and don't tell me it's because he was a crush on me, because, that certainly is not true. Dad just keeps telling me to deck him one, but only if he swings the first swing…and I sure hope he swings first soon so I can finally let it out.

Anyways! I love you, brother. Write more!

Love,

Hilary

**February 16, 2183 **

Dear Jeff,

Son, I heard about your Commander's death and the media slander that followed you. Do not, and I repeat, do not let this effect you. You did all you could for this woman. Do not listen to the articles, the reports or the slander. It will pass. Life goes on.

I know you too well, Jeffery. You're probably masking this feeling and replacing it with your smut films and sarcasm. Listen to me, son, you did everything perfect. You are the best helmsmen in the Alliance and the best pilot to cross the damn Milky Way.

So – stop ignoring your family over your grief. I love you. Hilary loves you. And I know that your mother loves you – she's still watching over you. Write me back as soon as you get this.

Love,

Dad 

**January 5, 2185 **

Dear Mr. Moreau,

We have been informed of your current address, we have also came to the news that you have been stripped of your wings after the death of your previous commander: Commander Jane Ann Shepard. With our deepest condolences we wish to strike a deal with you that could very well earn your leave and pardon your job.

You either push delete or you track our message with detailed information attached to your mail. And trust us, you will not regret the outcome.

Sincerely,

Cerberus Officer: Miranda Lawson

**March 6, 2186 **

Joker,

I'm doing everything in my power to find the exact location that your sister and father. As time goes on my staff begins to dwindle along with the death count. Though, I did hear about a Salarian refugee ship boarding human children; from ages – newborn to 16. I'll look more into the issue – I'll do everything I can to find your sister at least.

-Liara

**Omni-tool pings: **

_14:30 _**J.****Shepard: **Have EDI lock the airlocks. I mean it. Javik is starting to get these crazy ideas that Vega keeps pestering. Javik has also informed me of the information that EDI has been fueling him with…you know the different sex bathroom situation...

_17:28 _**J. Vega:** I'm sending a mass message to everyone that strip poker will be scheduled tonight in the mess room. Shepard is still pending the event – so if anyone sees her – convince her on the detail that the poker thing is still going down.

_17:30 _**J. Shepard: **Dear, Normandy crew. It has come to my attention that James Vega is attempting an eventful Strip Poker match. I do not condone this idea – so ladies please keep those bra straps in place. And, no, Vega – quit knocking on my door.

_18:21 _**EDI: **Jeff, I've taken the liberty of wiping your current search history. With regs – Shepard would probably not find the idea of sending Garrus informational videos on the biology of Turian and Human relations. Hence, when Shepard finds out that Garrus has been streaming these ideas to her – you will not be held accountable. You're welcome.

**Search History:** [History of The Titanic] [Sea waves and The Poseidon] [Ice bergs] [Austin Powers: Gold Member]

**Next:** Bitter Friendship


	7. Bitter Friendship

**What Happens On The Ship Stays On The Ship**

**Title: **Bitter Friendship

**Word Count: 930**

**Time: **ME- Post

Kaiden was smiling – bashfully when he caught glimpse of natural seas brush by Shepard's hues. Politely, she'd always smiled in retort when she passed him in mess hall, nodding her head, the thin lines of pink lips pressed tightly together.

He'd melt and rush to join her. "Did you know – "He paused to grab her attention, "ninety percent of your body mass is in fact star dust." Shepard didn't quite under the romantics in Kaiden's harmonized voice.

"How's that Lt?" She'd humor him of course – couldn't actually shake the professionalism out of her veins.

He continued on, "All the elements except for hydrogen and helium are created in stars. Which…" He trailed and the idea ran across the lines of cheesy, but Shepard still got a good kick from his humor, "Which explains why you always burn the brightest, Commander."

"And two-hundred and seventy-five million stars are born every single day." She concluded – and that's how he peeked her loving nature. By talking about the masses of heavens that surrounded the ship.

He certainly was smitten by her.

-x-

"Kaiden."

"Garrus."

Both men eyed each other as they both loaded on the elevator.

Garrus was certainly more collective over his issues with Kaiden – and Kaiden simply held his breath and politely smiled, while Garrus nodded his head to his acknowledgment. "Good morning." Kaiden added, "Sleep well?"

"Better than any man in war." Which earned an even bigger grin from the human in question.

"And Shepard? How is she?"

It's been two weeks since the end of days, the end of an infamous war with the Reapers. And now – well - everyone was off and back to business with tour and medical leave. "Complains mostly about being tired or that she can't leave her bed. I tried to explain she's just restless. That the Commander will have to get into the swing of civilized life." Garrus hummed over the thought. He remembered vividly that it was Kaiden who was the first to find her curled body.

Kaiden gave into a weak laugh, "Exactly. We know her well enough that laying down certainly isn't her style."

If was an unsaid feeling that Kaiden harbored love for Shepard, hell, Garrus wouldn't blame the man for being so smitten by the powerful female. They never hated each other, just one man aware of the feelings of another – one stayed while the other one fell in the line of duty.

Tension seemed thick, though there was a fine line on the definition of respect.

The ride up the elevator fell silent, and the click of shoes was the only distant sound due Kaiden's fidgeting. The elevator pinged and resulted to them both stepping off on linoleum flooring and the bright florescent lighting blinding both men. There was quiet chatter that huddled them in the halls as they both walked side-by-side.

"Been awhile. Just had to see Shepard again before deployment on galactic tour – you know… rebuilding, speeches, kissing babies." Kaiden meant for idle conversation while they both indented on visiting said commander.

"Certainly. I'm being called back as well. I seemed to be brought into the political debate of it as well. Then hopefully, catch up with my own family."

"And you mean to bring Shepard with you?"

There was some things better left unsaid – but the way that Garrus stopped in the middle of the hallway also halted Kaiden's stride.

"I do." He simply stated and the human nodded his head. Knowing all too well.

"I see. Good." Kaiden gave into his own hum, but his stomach still clenched up. He paused, finding the hues of Garrus' vision till he continued. "We haven't been on equal terms for a while Garrus." Kaiden pulled Garrus off to the side of the hallway so that a couple could pass with their wheelchair.

Garrus was blunt, "Look –"but Kaiden interrupted him with a subtle smile, "Please. Don't explain the situation to me. Garrus, I've known all this time. Hell, Shepard even told me."

Garrus felt pity. Pity for the man in front of him. "She needed someone when no one believed her." Kaiden placed a hand on his shoulder, patting out that feeling. "I'm not going to lie. I love her. I love her more than anything. She's a beautiful woman, but she chose you; her best friend."

"She loved you too, Kaiden." Garrus bit back and nodded to Kaiden's words; his mandibles clenched to his jaw. "She spoke of you during the fight with the collectors."

"And now she has you." Kaiden kept true to his smile and Garrus was finally relaxing to the hospital environment around them. Both men had to come to a truce – even if they never officially fought over The Commander's love. They were grown men. "There is no one in the galaxy I trust her more with than you." And the statement was so simple, so beautiful.

It would be a silent agreement, both of them shaking hands till they found their destination. Opening hospital doors to reveal their topic.

Shepard was smiling brightly, her hands crossed over one another, leaning back in her bed. "Well – what took you two so long?" Kaiden was the first to move to Shepard's side and she placed a kiss on the side of his face. Garrus trailed behind, bowing his head to her level so he could earn her lingering touch and a brush of warm lips on the side of his unscarred jaw.

**Next: Gingersnap**


	8. Gingersnap

**What Happens On The Ship Stays On The Ship**

**Time: Post**

**Word Count: 1,022**

**Title: Gingersnap**

She's touching his face and he returns the same amount of affection. Both grinning and a pair of similar eyes attract to each other. "John – oh, my little brother." She leans in and presses her warm lips against the side of his face, her lips linger; she notes his shadow and gives a small prayer. Then she pulls away to stare at his face again and lets her thumb drift upon the other side of his cheek. "You always seem to conspirer against the odds."

John gives her a smug grin; she nuzzles her face back against her brothers'. "Alright, alright. Off – off. You're embarrassing me in front of my wife and your crewmate." Jane was now ruffling her brother's red hair.

"Couldn't have that now can we?" And John groaned with Jane's musing nature. Julia held her grin, an infant pressed firmly against her chest and Garrus nodded off in amusement over Jane's display of motherly affection towards her younger brother. A rare display – but much needed.

The siblings separated so she could find her place in front of Julia, who nervously bit her tongue when she came to grips that she was actually related to the savior of the galaxy. She'd fidget under Jane's loving gaze; for a quick moment she'd forget this woman has killed more than she's ever seen. "This is Beth? Correct?" And Jane held out her hands, it took Julia a moment before she realized the action.

Quickly, Julia nodded and smiled pleasantly. "Yes! Um..."

"May I?" And Jane held her hands out closer, a grin still plastered upon the natural pink of her lips.

"Yes!" Julia matched Jane's smile and chirped happily when she handed the small bundle to Jane. Jane quickly placed her hand under the baby's skull to support the neck, her other supported the bottom when she pressed the child close to her chest.

It took Jane a moment, adjusting her weight and shifting between her feet. She wanted to choke out when she felt the warmth of the sleeping little girl. "Oh. Oh, she's so beautiful." Julia nodded and John stepped next to his wife proudly.

Jane's head dipped so that the side of her face touched her niece's forehead; balled fist pressed against her undershirt. Jane was humming, she wanted to cry over the situation that her brother and his family surfaced after war, and she wanted to cry as she held the life of family – her family; a family well fought for.

It takes Jane a minute till she averts all her attention to her sister-in-law. With the baby tucked under her arm, Jane leans in close to Julia's face and touches her forehead against hers. Both women would cry over the outcome – war was the answer – dreams were soon to follow. And Julia is wrapping her arms around Jane.

-x-

"I dreamed where God would be forgiving – Unafraid, I was only a child in Jane's care. Love was simple, love was giving in my perspective – I never considered where she stood. What she did to raise me. She did things. Ungodly, unforgiving – well, to her standards. I didn't care. I loved her. She was my sister. A mother when our own spat on our names." John spoke in under tones to the alien before him. He retreated to the simple pleasures of a smile; spread long and deep. "I ignored what they said about my sister. _My first love. _They spoke of her as a whore – she looked to a means to feed me. I was powerless, I couldn't work. I was just a damn twelve year old boy."

Garrus was idle. His mandibles clutched hard to the sides of his face; he let the human get whatever he had off on his chest. "She's told you about her past? What she had to do before she enrolled?"

"Her conversations on her past are broken. Its hell trying to get her to open up as is. She remises only about you." Garrus mumbled.

"Then I also assume she told you about how she degraded herself? Or – however she worded it. She was always a damn hero."

"After her death on the SR1 they did dig up something on her that I happened to hear. I was – stationed on Omega when I heard about Jane and her early years. Something about being a dancer for some club on Earth."

"You saw the photos didn't you?"

He didn't really want to talk about that half with his mate's brother. It seemed odd. Then he remembered the spread shots of a young Jane positioned in obscene arrangements. Red hair spilled over her breast. Silence was Garrus' answer to John. Lewd holos of her popped up over Omega like wildfire.

"Growing up. I remember the other boys use to tease me. Saying my sister was some sort of whore that crawled from the gutters, and the only way she made a living was her face in a pillow or on her back. Those allegations are false. She only did entertainment – she never gave her body willingly. Though, she did drill me at a young age that women should be held high and if she learned I was one of those _club regulars _she'd be the first to kill me. You can say I made friends easily with Jane's _coworkers._ Hell, I was basically raised by other strippers when Jane had to work nightshift, so she could take me to school in the morning." John muffled a low chuckle. "I love her."

"I love her as well. You don't have to worry about her – it's over. And I'll make sure she reaps the benefits." John gave a half smirk when he glared up at the turian who towered over him.

"Then, I assume were going to be one weird family. I can only imagine Christmas and Thanksgiving."

"Excuse me?"

And John dabbled in his own laugh, "Family holidays. Damn. No worries, Jane and I barely got to celebrate our own weird customs growing up."

**Next: **Joining Colonies


	9. Joining Colonies

**What Happens On The Ship Stays On The Ship**

**Word Count: 818**

**Time: Post**

**Title: Joining Colonies**

First there'd be a touch. A long index touching her jaw to tilt her head to one side then to the other. She was ushered to sit down on the stool, Jovian Vakarian, Garrus' father sat in front of her to study the fixtures of human molding – genetic purposes, and so on. His mandibles fluttered for the moment, then clenched tight to his face. "Who is giving her away?"

"I will." John is the first to step up in the small room: filled with crewmates and immediate family members. John places Beth in his wife's arms while he shifts over next to his sister. Bending down, he gave his sister a grin that warmed her nervous heart. John is instructed by the older Vakarian to hold Shepard's right hand; his thumb graces over her skin, her fingers are tight around his grasp.

As custom, same with fathers of Earth custom marriages – it was suited that the father gave away his daughter in marriage rituals. Her brother would have to do, but Shepard felt it more appropriate the honor be given to John anyways.

She's dressed in white to respect her marriage equivalence, though her hair is woven back in Palavan flowers; pulled from her face. Her free hand brushes over the long trail of the white dress and she hums nervously while Jovian readies the paint.

Jovian coaxes his son over and Garrus bends down to Shepard's height to find her lone hand; holding the delicate figure and tries to lace his mismatched digits with hers. She sighs, gratefully when he leans in for a quick moment to press his forehead against hers'. On the other end she could basically hear John's grin at her ear – secretly he'd always tease – but that only shows he cares.

And so it begins. "Upon religious aspects of Humans – blue is considered a holy color, relating to your _Virgin Mary. _Though, blue for ours represents our colony, our family, and where the roots join." Jovian paused to drink in the awe of this woman who seemed so keen on his son. There'd be pride, though, remorse that this union would be unfruitful on the topic of children. He'd continue, "Jane Shepard suspects to have no colony of her own – but her family values always relied in the eyes of her brother. In turn, I'd be honored to join her with mine, as custom that the older male of the family applies the markings of his colony, and in turn they will do the same for their offspring."

Jane shifted uncomfortably, though eased with Garrus strumming his thumb over the side of her hand. "Jane do you accept to be bound to this family? Once you are bonded there is no way out – your actions alone will reflect upon said family."

Shepard quickly nodded, "I do."

"Garrus, do you trust her vow? That she – a human will respect you as a dependent?"

If only Shepard understood the significance of subharmonics, "I do."

Jovian eyed his son, and there'd be an unsaid understanding between son and father. Jovian dips the paint brush into the wooden bowl. The rich color of sea beginning to map out the pale textures of her skin. Gracing the trail like virgin snow, basked in an even pride when Garrus watched his father paint his markings on his bond-mate.

The room was quiet, though huddled close to watch the way the delicate curve of Shepard's eyes closed, her lips pulled tight in lines, and the stillness of her body under the hand of Jovian. When he finished, he continued on with the ritual, "John Shepard, will you do the honor of giving away your sister? Are you willing to give one of your own up to another colony?"

John was silent for the moment – he's never seen this unusual event unfold. Hell, he felt odd by his own human marriage. He'd smile lightly when he watched his sister's eyes open and face him. "Truth be told – I'd never give my sister up to another man. In turn, to your colony – I respect the properties and knowing this man, the man that begs for my sister's attention, her hand, and her joining has certainly earned the rite. So, Garrus Vakarian – I'd be honored to give you the greatest gift of all, my sister." John slowly moved to place both of her hands in Garrus'; his hand lingering a moment over the other pair of hands and he sat up.

The group about them cheered when the final moments came to play and Garrus leaned in to touch his forehead to hers to seal the deal – in doing so, her lips quickly found his and both of her hands moved from his to reach the sides of his face; pulling him in tighter to the kiss.

**Next: Uncle**


End file.
